


Tell Me What You Need

by LordOfThePies88



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crying, Cuddles, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski, start of a relationship, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordOfThePies88/pseuds/LordOfThePies88
Summary: Stiles struggles with depression and, to his surprise, Derek's the one that takes notice. One night is particularly bad and Stiles contacts Derek just so he can have someone there.





	Tell Me What You Need

Stiles checked the time on his phone.  


3:42 AM  


His chest ached and he wished he would just spontaneously evaporate into thin air. Despite the medication, despite the therapy, despite the exercise and eating healthier and seeing friends more often and _just doing more things he loved_ , depression was getting the better of him. Despite the vast improvements over the past year, sometimes episodes would still creep up and hit him hard.  


He tried his best, though, to appear happy for his friends. For the pack. Normally it wasn’t hard, all he’d been doing **had** been helping, so most of the time his happiness was genuine, but depression will be depression and episodes will still happen, no matter what Stiles did to balance out his brain chemistry and thought processes. Sometimes, during an episode, in a private moment with Scott or Lydia, a self-deprecating comment would slip through his lips. And sometimes, if he was feeling daring, he would willingly talk to them about how he was _really_ feeling. Those times were few and far between though, saved for when there were no immediate threats to any pack members’ lives.  


It was Derek who noticed it first, during a pack movie night. Stiles was struggling a little more than usual. He hid in the bathroom for forty minutes, wiping away tears and trying to fight the empty feeling in his chest. It was moments like those that he missed his mom the most, and wished his dad was just more present, but neither were realistic to hope for so Stiles had learned to choke back tears and drown out the noise in his head with his own voice. When Stiles opened the bathroom door that night, Derek was waiting for him. He questioned Stiles about his red eyes and why he reeked of sadness instead of his natural scent. Stiles tried to make a joke, tried to come up with an excuse, but Derek reminded him that he could hear a lie – “even one drenched in sarcasm”. Stiles broke down to someone for the first time that night, to Derek of all people. To Stiles’ surprise, Derek listened and he listened well.

Stiles checked his phone again.  


3:56 AM  


A memory of Derek’s voice echoed in his head. _“If you ever need me, no matter what’s going on or what time it is, call me.”_ It was something he’d said as the pack left that night, Stiles being the last out the door. Derek’s face was stern, as usual, but an unfamiliar sort of kindness softened his eyes and Stiles knew Derek meant it. Stiles had taken Derek up on the offer before, for company while researching, for someone to share a meal with, for someone to cry to (though he tried to not need someone for that too often), but it had never been four in the morning before. And it had never been out of desperation for someone to just **be** there. The emptiness of the dark room was suffocating, and his shoulders felt like they were being crushed by the weight of having no human contact. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had so much as someone bump into him on the street. Scott had been much less touchy with him since he met Allison, and the Sheriff wasn’t exactly a reliable source for comfort.  


Stiles rolled the words around in his mouth, testing them, “I’m really sad, I could use some company, sorry if I’m waking you up, please don’t kill me.” His voice was high-pitched and tight. He couldn’t bring himself to call Derek and instead settled on texting him. He figured either Derek would answer, or Stiles would be able to push himself through one more sleepless, tearful night alone.  


It almost didn’t even register in Stiles’ mind when his phone vibrated immediately and the screen lit up with -  


Mr. Broody Brows: Be there in 10.  


Nine minutes later, Derek was slipping through Stiles’ bedroom window. Stiles bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to breathe past the lump in his throat. Derek took off his jacket and settled in the office chair opposite where Stiles was sitting on the edge of his bed. Neither of them said a word, but the silence was warmer, lighter than it had been before Derek came in. Eventually Stiles cleared his throat.  


“I’m sorry if I woke you up.”  


Derek closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, dropping his chin to his chest.  


“Stiles, when I said ‘any time’, I meant it.”  


“I know,” Stiles sighed, “I just feel bad because, you know – ”  


“Don’t feel bad.” Derek rolled the chair closer to the bed and gently rested a hand on Stiles’ knee. For a fleeting moment, Stiles was distracted from his crippling sadness. This was the first time Derek had touched him without throwing him against a wall or smashing his head off a steering wheel. This touch was soft, kind, _affectionate_.  


It had been just what Stiles needed, and he didn’t even know until that moment.  


He hiccupped before the first tear fell, his face pressing hard into his hands. Derek squeezed the young man’s knee.  


“Anything set off this episode?”  


Stiles shook his head and stammered out an “I don’t think so, I think this is just something that’s happening.” Derek nodded. He stayed quiet for a long while, letting Stiles choke on his sobs and say a few words here and there. Nothing Stiles was saying made complete sense to Derek. It was all blips of thoughts that happened to escape Stiles’ mind mid-sentence, but Derek listened as best he could anyway. Derek slowly rubbed a thumb over the grey sweatpants covering Stiles’ knee, all the while listening to half-sentences about Scott and his mom and _why am I even sad this doesn’t make sense_.  


Stiles sniffled and wiped his nose and cheeks with his sleeves.  


“Sorry about that,” he muttered.  


“You have nothing to apologize for.” Derek’s voice was soft and Stiles wanted to just fall into it and wrap himself up in the sound. Stiles checked the time on his phone.  


4:29 AM  


“You can go home if you want, Derek.” Stiles wrapped his arms around himself and held back a whimper when Derek’s hand left his knee. Derek immediately put his hand back, hearing the way Stiles’ heartbeat changed. Stiles almost burst into tears again at the touch, his bottom lip tight and quivering.  


“What can I do to help, Stiles?” Derek’s expression softened. Stiles shrugged and pulled his shoulders tighter inwards.  


“Nothing. I don’t know. There’s nothing – ”  


“Stiles, I don’t know how many times I have to remind you that I can hear when you lie. What can I do?” Derek squeezed Stiles’ knee again.  


“It’s really stupid.”  


“Try me.” Derek shrugged and listened to Stiles’ heart rate, listening for a lie or even just the quickened pulse of not saying everything he wanted to.  


“Can you just… can I have a hug?” Stiles turned his head to the side, averting his gaze, his mole-speckled cheek touching his shoulder.  


“And that’s all you need?” Derek’s eyebrows pulled up. Stiles nodded, keeping his mouth shut. He couldn’t lie if he didn’t speak, right? Derek sighed. “Stiles, I’m not here to stick a band-aid on you and leave. I’m here to help. Let me help.” Stiles chewed on his bottom lip and a tear slipped down his cheek, soaking into the shoulder of his hoodie. “You,” Derek huffed, “are infuriating. Get into bed.”  


Stiles felt the dull ache in his chest blossom into a heavy pain as Derek’s hand left his knee again. He didn’t have the energy to argue as he curled into bed, pressing himself against the wall, his back turned to his room. Stiles listened to Derek shuffling around and he _just knew_ Derek was getting his coat on to leave. He waited to hear his bedroom window slide open.  


Except the sound never came.  


A weight shifted into the bed behind Stiles and an arm draped over his waist. Derek pressed his chest against Stiles’ back, slipping his other arm under Stiles’ neck and around his chest. He aligned his legs with the younger man’s and rested his cheek against Stiles’ dark brown hair.  


“Is this what you wanted?” Derek tightened his hold for a moment, imitating a hug. “Remember, I can hear when you lie.”  


Stiles squeezed his eyes shut tight and hiccupped down sobs, nodding. “How – how long can you stay?”  


“As long as you need me. Do you want to talk some more?” Derek shut his eyes, hearing Stiles’ heartbeat calming. Stiles shook his head and heaved a shuddery sigh. “Alright, then it’s time to sleep.”  


Stiles fought off sleep for long as he could, wanting to savor the feeling of Derek’s body pressed against his, Derek’s heartbeat against his back, Derek’s breath ghosting over his neck and ear, but sleep is not something that can be held off for long – especially when deprived of it – and Stiles fell into a deep, dreamless sleep wrapped up in the safety of Derek.

Derek stayed as long as Stiles needed, until two in the afternoon that day, ignoring the way his jeans made him overheat and the buttons of his Henley pressed red marks into Stiles’ cheek. The older man kept his arms wrapped protectively around Stiles’ body, or stroked the young man’s hair when he wanted to talk, the entire time until he was sure Stiles would be okay. Stiles wasn’t cured, but he was a little better. He wondered if Derek had the ability to take away the physical tolls of emotional pain. He no longer felt an ache in his chest.

When Derek slipped through Stiles’ bedroom window later that night, exactly nine minutes after the two AM phone call, he was wearing pajama pants and a cotton t-shirt.  


“Scoot over,” Derek whispered as he slid into bed beside Stiles.  


It took hardly any time for Derek to start showing up without a call, outside of Stiles’ depressive episodes.  


It took even less time for the Sheriff to notice the way coffee started disappearing at twice the rate.  


And it took almost no time at all after that for Derek to accidentally admit, one sleepy morning, that he kind of sort of loved Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling hella sad and saw a picture of Stiles looking hella sad and I wanted at least one of us to feel better. There may or may not be a sprinkle of projection that happened here, but so be it. Hope you liked it. Please leave a comment if you feel so inclined!


End file.
